


Adrhenaline

by Ishti



Category: Aveyond
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fix-It, Gen, implied Rhen/Dameon I guess, just traumatized teenager things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:28:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26248696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishti/pseuds/Ishti
Summary: A perspective on the final scene before the battle against Ahriman.
Kudos: 3





	Adrhenaline

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote edited and posted this at 2:30 a.m. hours in the morning and also yes every single line is ripped straight from the canon dialogue who am I
> 
> (also this was technically Iz's idea; shout out)

“What is this? _Slugs?”_

Rhen spat blood from her tongue, tasting the salt and iron trickling down her lips. The endless purple sky swirled in her eyes; deep, deeper than her vision could fathom, yet still oppressive and smothering, clouds pressing down like heavy curtains lined with lead. She glanced from tree to dead, splintering tree, their monstrous arms outstretched to brutalize her, then back to the hooded old man menacing her, blocking the only exit through which she desperately wished she could flee.

Like the whip of a wolf’s tail, Ahriman’s hand was at his staff. He sneered through the white mane framing his jaw and chuckled with all the mirth of a storm cloud in December. “Time to die.”

The hammering thing in Rhen’s chest had never pummeled so hard or so fast; not when she was kidnapped from her home on the mountainside, not when she faced the Oracle in her temple for the first time, not even when she nearly died to a demon she couldn’t see or touch. She felt it in her throat, her mouth, her scalp, her hands. She nearly didn’t hear Dameon behind her.

“Are you ready, Rhen?”

Rhen’s breath came quickly, rushing from her chest. “No,” she said, struggling to remember how to speak. “But do I have a choice?”

Howling wind and raging blood rang in her ears as Dameon paused. “No.”

“Then--“ Rhen’s eyes darted, her mind tumbling, lost for a safe place to land “--let’s do this.”

The command came out like a question. Was this real? Was this what she should do? Was she in the wrong place? She remembered there were seven people behind her waiting for her to lead them--what did that mean?

“Ahriman!” she shouted. She drew her sword, the only action that came to her fluidly now. “You killed my mother! You destroyed my family!” Her chest heaved; what else? “You killed my _people!”_ She was babbling, her words meant nothing, she didn’t know what she was saying anymore; she had to end it--“It’s time for _you_ to die!”

The demon laughed again, cold mockery raising the hairs on Rhen’s arms. “Sun Priest. Come to me now.”

Dameon strode forward like an obedient mare, and Rhen’s jaw went slack. She couldn’t see anything anymore; only the shadows swimming in the golden trim of Dameon’s robes, metal snakes winding up his chest and over his shoulders.

“Dameon!” she choked. “What are you _doing?”_

“I’m… sorry it had to end this way…” Dameon was a sunset shape, blurring and dimming, his face turned away. “Sword singer.”

Rhen felt heat in her cheeks. “This is madness!” she protested. “And all because you hate your mother?”

Dameon was again infuriatingly slow to respond, allowing the hollow air and the pounding pulse to smother Rhen in the stillness. She was tense, ready to pounce, brimming with unrefined confusion.

“You have a choice,” he said.

“What choice is that?”

“Join me.” Dameon raised his palms, and the movement made Rhen crouch, spring-loaded. “I will keep you safe forever.”

 _“Safe!”_ spat Rhen, as if she could ever feel safe, as if such a feeling existed. “Against _what?”_

“Ahriman has saved a place for you and me.”

That was the end of what Rhen heard. She was numb. All she could feel was the leather grip of the humming sword against her palm. All she could feel was what she had to do, what she was there to do--what she was constructed to do.

“But Ahriman is _evil,”_ she reminded the void, her quiet voice shaking with fury.

The red and gold shifted, flourishing, spilling into the corners of her vision. “Are you sure?” Dameon asked, low and measured, and the droning sound stretched on, and she couldn’t hear him.

“Does Ahriman not want to destroy the _world?_ Dameon! Think clearly!” she pleaded, as if she herself were capable of such a thing.

_“No!”_

The voice of the old man warped and echoed, far away down the canyon of her consciousness. The noises swirled and ebbed and crashed together, sharp and cracked into honey-smooth.

“Live forever.”

“You could live forever with me.”

The roughly-clipped nails of Rhen’s clenched off-hand sliced through her skin. The pain pierced her back to a semblance of awareness, and she hardened her stance, feet firm on the ground. “Dameon, for the love of the sun!” she cried, desperation peaking her voice. “He has a hold on you, just like he did on your father!” _Didn’t he? Is that what Dameon said?_

“No--!”

“Listen to your heart, Dameon!” she charged on. “See with your own eyes what he is!”

Rhen’s free hand found her pocket and snatched at whatever it found there, crumpling the crude paper envelope and tossing it at Dameon with all the force she’d saved. Iridescent glitter burst forth, dazzling Rhen til she saw Dameon’s face, his eyes widening for an instant before squeezing shut to expel the blinding dust.

“My eyes! My _eyes! What have you done?!”_

A girl spoke from behind Rhen’s lips. “Open your eyes, Dameon!” the girl shouted. “Look at Ahriman and who he really is! See the truth!”

She watched as Dameon jerked away, then backed slowly toward the edge of the stone balcony, fixed on Ahriman. “It’s all… so… I…” He exhaled with force. “ _Ahriman…”_

“Fight him, Dameon!” Rhen cried. “That--that was fairy dust! Fairy dust always tells the truth! I know you see the truth--I know you!”

“I… I don’t know…”

“Kill her, Sun Priest!” snapped Ahriman. “She lies!”

There was no controlling it anymore; Rhen spoke, but not from her head, platitudes rolling downhill in a chaotic avalanche. “Look into your heart, Dameon. Look into my heart! You have the power! You-- _you_ are the chosen one, not I! I see it!” _What?_ “Dameon, you are the chosen one!” she repeated. “I--I _see_ it!”

Behind Rhen, a sword rang slowly on the edge of its sheath, and a summoner muttered under her breath. The air at her back grew hot with energy she knew she couldn’t contain much longer. What had she said? _Why_ had she said it? What on Aia should she say _now?_

“You have the power of the sun,” she rambled, her confidence feigned but persuasive. “The power of the light! Use it on me! See that I tell the truth!”

_The truth about what?_

Hesitantly, Dameon waved a hand over Rhen’s forehead, and dazzling light swept over her. She shut her eyes and didn’t open them even when the space beyond her eyelids faded back into darkness.

“I see!” gasped Dameon. “I _see!_ I _see you, Ahriman!”_

“This is madness! You belong to _me,_ Sun Priest! Do as I say!”

_“No.”_

Rhen blinked hard, her eyelashes speckling water against her cheeks. Nothing she’d said was genuine--she knew the prophecy--Dameon wasn’t _chosen,_ or rather, not by any divination--the Oracle had chosen Dameon for his druidic duties, and she had chosen Dameon for--for--nothing she said made any _sense,_ but--if he believed her-- _stop._

“Now, Dameon!” Rhen knocked her sword against her gauntlet, the sharp chime jolting her mind. “We must take him-- _now!”_

Dameon’s knuckles whitened against his staff, and its jewel glowed like a dying star. Flickering wisps like butterflies pooled around his feet and danced at his fingertips. Ahriman hissed and recoiled, cowed by the agonizing brightness. Dameon pushed back, brandishing the staff at his foe. He stared a hole through Rhen’s skull.

“Use your powers against him. Use what is deep inside.” Rhen licked her lips and tasted her purpose, garnished with desperation. “Make him weak so I can use the Sword of Shadows on him.”

 _“Ahriman!”_ roared the Sun Priest.

Thank the Goddess, she would remember nothing after that.


End file.
